


The great wall of kinks

by theabnormallifeofateenfangirl



Category: Politics - Fandom, putin, trump - Fandom
Genre: Guard AU, Kinky, Lovers, M/M, Putin has a husky voice, Trump is the sub, Wall - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 22:51:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11427897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theabnormallifeofateenfangirl/pseuds/theabnormallifeofateenfangirl
Summary: In an alternate timeline, the wall between Mexico and America has been built. Except Trump is no more than a ground guard that has a thing for his watchtower dom...





	The great wall of kinks

Stars paved an array of constellations and the work that preceded the night’s demise. Fifty feet of precast cement loomed over the barren land, stretching further than the human eye could attempt to grasp. The tall shadow cast from the definitive divide between Mexico and the States was only broken with a single white beam, emitted from the nearby watchtower.

“Tower 51 attempting contact with ground officer Trump,” muffled a familiar, dominating voice over the security guard radio, breaking through the crisp silence. Trump knew that his Master meant business from his tone of voice and he didn’t want his master to be angry with him. However, Trump (being the tenacious tease he is) decided against immediately answering his summoning, instead humming ‘All Star’ quietly, both to distract himself from his sudden nervousness and to ease the pang of his erratic heart.

Despite his best attempts at ignoring the muffled demands that persisted, Trump really did want to talk to his Master. Monitoring the lengthy wall at three in the morning got rather lonely, especially without the husky voice that his Master had so delicately perfected. So with his internal war lost, Trump gave in to the calls from the bulky, black, rectangular machine.

“Yes, Master. Is there something you needed?” Trump innocently yet playfully hinted. There was a long pause in which Trump gained no reply, causing anxiety to fill his rotund body; palms sweaty, orange face drained. The silence with broken by a domineering cough that radiated from the toxic device. Although annoyed, his Master couldn’t hate him. Trump’s face regained some colour and he tried to compose himself in the way a great man does.

“Master who? Have you forgotten your manners?” Master drawled, in a harsh yet oddly charming way. Shivers ran through Trump’s spine, how he had forgotten the melodic chime of the deep accented voice he will never know.

“Sorry Master Putin, I didn’t mean t-” Trump spluttered, needy and vulnerable.

“Don’t interrupt! Deary me, I’m going to have to reteach some rules to you.” Master Putin ordered sincerely, but Trump could smell the smile playing on his Masters’ lips. Although this signalled that Master Putin was in a playful mood and therefore not angry, Trump couldn't relax from his already tensed state because he knew that this was when his Master liked to bite.

***

The restless moon beat down on the lifeless ground, illuminating random moving flecks,unaware of what will precede the Sun’s arrival. Sharp, silvery glints returned the mellow signal, a sign of appreciation from the gun and harness that were securely tightened to Trump. However, the universe was not Trump’s only audience, Master Putin’s large, Russian eyes had not left the direction of the obtrusive yet weak-willed man. Fixated on his opportunity to degrade and assert his dominance to a puppet that needed a ventriloquist.

Putin found it highly useful to be assigned to a watchtower that just so happens to guard the same land in which his little slave paces all night long. He definitely didn't use any illegal methods to get that specific post, least of all blackmail and bribery. Most certainly not! Putin was renown for his hard work and his capability of upholding the ideals of the American dream, the perfect immigrant.

Despite the responsibility that came with Putin’s job, keeping the other immigrants out,  
he still managed to find the time to constantly stare at Trump’s divine derriere. Each step that Trump took opened endless opportunities in his Master’s mind. It presented the reality of what Trump had to offer and the promises he was willing to fulfil. Plump and rounded, Trump’s nether-cheeks bobbed as he walked, a perfect presentation of the greatest bubble butt Putin had ever seen. 

Dirty thoughts flooded the dominators mind but he knew that every whim could be enacted. Of course he would take advantage of such a freedom. Thinking through his plan and course of action, Putin held the walkie-talkie to his lips before holding down the all important on button.

“Listen vermin! As punishment for your earlier insolence you will do as your master says you got that?” Putin phrased the demand as a question but his surprisingly delighted yet harsh tone of voice told Trump otherwise.

“Yes master.” Trump resigned, but his voice had a definite feel of excitement. There was nothing that Trump loved more than being ordered around by the controlling man. Everything about him was appealing. The accent. The corruption. The muscles. Trump’s mind was filled with impure images, he was sure that if God didn't smite him down first, he would explode. Trump was so preoccupied he had not realised that he had stopped moving until his walkie talkie let out a few muffled sounds before introducing the tenacious voice of Putin. 

“Take off your trousers,” Putin’s husky voice demanded, in that sexy tone that he knew his plaything loved so very much and just could not refuse. As expected, Trump’s immediate response was to rid himself of the fabric constraints. Free in the moonlight...


End file.
